


Home Is Just A State of Mind

by foolsdance



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU, M/M, Mental Health Issues, New Beginnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 11:23:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolsdance/pseuds/foolsdance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After everyone but Daryl, Rick and Judith are killed by a walker herd, they make a new beginning together. Daryl knows something is off about Rick but that's not surprising, really. He doesn't know just how bad it is.<br/>Based on <a href="http://twd-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/5396.html?thread=7143444#t7143444">this</a> prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Is Just A State of Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Neither Rick, Daryl or Judith die during the course of this story. The violence is depicted in a flashback.

They run and they run and then they walk until they finally find a vehicle that's still in working order. There are even keys hanging in the ignition, but that's a nicety, not a necessity, since Daryl learned how to hot wire a car at the ripe old age of twelve. He suspects Rick could do it just as well.

 

If Rick was all there, that is.

 

He is sitting in the cab of the old Ford pickup they'd commandeered, cradling Judith in his arms like she's precious cargo. If only he didn't have that awful, unnerving, blank stare on his face, Daryl wouldn't feel so off about leaving them alone while he scouts for fuel.

 

Surely they'd be alright until he got back. Rick is still in shock, and God knows he has every right to be, but not so much so that he'd let walkers get him. If nothing else, he'd protect the baby. Daryl shoves his misgivings down where he didn't have to think about them anymore and goes scavenging.

 

It takes him close to fifteen minutes to scrounge up a gas can and some tubing long enough for siphoning, another ten to fill the can from the abandoned cars littering the roadside. All the while he's straining, listening for inhuman growls, for the wail of a hungry baby, for the all too familiar screams of the dying. He hears nothing more ominous than a bird singing a bright and cheerful song in a nearby tree, unknowing and uncaring of the fate of the humans it shares the planet with.

 

Daryl never really believed that this could be the end. People as a species were too damn stubborn to go out like this, wiped out by a plague of the walking dead. Eventually they'd rally and wipe out them out and things would go back to the way they were before. As much as possible, anyway. But now that everyone but Rick and Judith are gone, killed by a surge of walkers of unprecedented proportions, his faith is shaken.

 

Maybe this _is_ the end and he's too damn stupid to know when it's time to let it go.

 

He makes it back to the truck without incident to find Rick sitting exactly where he'd left him, apparently not having moved an inch the whole time he'd been gone. That didn't sit well with Daryl, not one little bit.

 

“Hey,” he calls out, as he pours the siphoned gas into the tank, “You okay in there?”

 

Rick is a long time answering, too long for Daryl's peace of mind, but when he finally does, he almost sounds normal.

 

“We're fine,” he says, and flashes Daryl a smile that is chilling in light of the events of the day. No sane man could watch his friends die, could see his _son_ die and smile like that just a few hours later. The suspicion that had been circling like a vulture coalesced into certainty.

 

Rick was batshit crazy.

 

~~~~~

 

Ten miles down the road with no clear destination in mind, just an overwhelming need to put distance between them and so much tragedy and Daryl pulls off on the side of the road.

 

“You got any ideas? About where we should go?” he adds and gets a vague smile in return.

 

“Home?” the other man says after an overly long pause and Daryl is sure that Rick has no clue what or where this mythical home is. He's just saying the first thing that sounds right to him. Judith starts fussing right about then, so Daryl starts the truck back up in the hope the motion will lull her back to sleep.

 

It works for a little while until the baby's hunger won't let her be soothed by anything less than a bottle anymore and Daryl has no choice but to try for a supply run. A sign tells him it's six miles to Howard and he can only hope it's a large enough town for a store that sells baby supplies. A town empty of walker would be a nice bonus, as well.

  
It was. Well, mostly empty, at any rate. Daryl is running out of a Pick Quik, arms loaded down with bottled water and formula, baby bottles and granola bars only to be greeted by the heart stopping sight of a small group of walkers making a beeline for their truck.

 

Rick, sitting in the passenger seat trying ineffectively to comfort a hungry Judith, doesn't seem to notice. Instead he smiles at Daryl as he jumps inside and guns the engine, shooting them down the street and out of range of the walkers.

 

“Did you get everything?” Rick asks, for all the world as though they'd just stopped off for a snack or soda on the way home from work.

 

Daryl wants to yell at him, scream out his frustrations until Rick comes to his senses but he doesn't. Yelling at crazy never did anyone any good.

 

Rick doesn't seem to notice or care that he doesn't answer, just goes back to trying to quiet the baby. It doesn't work of course, she wants her bottle and nothing else will do, so when he's sure they're in the clear he stops and makes her up a bottle, just like he'd seen Carol do so many times before.

 

_Carol screams as she's surrounded and Daryl screams right along with her, but that's it, there's nothing else he can do for her or any one else except Rick and the baby. Rick is standing there, not moving, not even blinking while the last of them is ripped to shreds right in front of his eyes. Daryl grabs his arm and pulls him along, down the corridor to temporary safety._

 

He drives and drives until exhaustion won't let him go any further, then finds an empty farm house that he thinks he can barricade well enough to get them through the night. He leads an unresisting Rick into the master bedroom and all but tucks him into bed like a child. Rick doesn't seem to mind, not even when Daryl crawls in with him.

 

Sleeping alone is not an option, not until Rick is Rick again. He can't take a chance on him wandering off in the night, maybe taking Judith with him.

 

The baby is tucked safely between them, sound asleep with a full belly and one tiny starfish hand drawn into a fist. Rick has her nestled securely against his chest as he settles in. He's mostly asleep when he flings one arm over her to include Daryl in their little circle.

 

It feels good. It feels like home and warmth and safety and like maybe everything's going to be all right after all.

 

~~~~~

 

They stay there three more days, resting up and regrouping until Daryl starts to fret about the dwindling formula situation. They couldn't stay there long term at any rate; the small wooden structure wouldn't stand a chance if a herd came through.

 

They needed to go somewhere secure. Somewhere safe.

 

Inspiration strikes the morning of the forth day, as he studies the grease stained state map he'd found in the truck's glove compartment.

 

It was the Alan Rickman Observatory, only twenty seven miles from where they were as the crow flies. He remembers going to one as a kid, on a fifth grade field trip. There had been heavy stone walls and from what he remembered it had been set up high on a hill, making it very defensible. He wasn't sure if all observatories were designed the same way, if this one would be similar or not, but it was worth a look see.

 

He has to change routes twice due to debris on the road and there is a close call during a refueling stop but in the end, it's all worth it. The observatory is perfect, set up high on the side of a hill with only one road in or out. The walls are made of cinder block, not stone, but that should be just as good. Best of all was the fence that surrounded the area. The sturdy _unbroken_ fence.

 

All that remains is to see if it's already occupied.

 

“Rick,” he says and the other man looks at him with that eerie, way too calm smile he had come to hate. “I need you to stay here and wait for me, okay? I'm going to see if anyone's home,” and he points at the building just ahead. “But this is real important so listen up. If I don't come back by nightfall, or if you see people coming at you with guns, or you see walkers – you need to get the hell out of dodge. Got it?”  
  
He's sure most of what he'd said has gone over Rick's head but Rick is frowning thoughtfully at him. His eyes are sharp and clear.

 

“I am a cop, you know. I know how to handle myself. I won't let anyone hurt Judith.”

 

And just like that, Rick from _before_ was there in the truck with him.

 

“I know. Just, you know, making sure. You've got your gun. And I loaded it for you,” he prompts and Rick looks down and sees the weapon there on the seat between them. He tucks the baby against his shoulder, holding her in place with one hand while he checks out his pistol with the other.

 

“You need backup,” Rick announces unexpectedly and yeah, he does, but someone has to keep Judith safe.

 

Rick's face softens when he's reminded of that fact and he starts rubbing her back distractedly.

 

“Just keep her safe. That's all you need to worry about. Deal?”

 

“Deal,” Rick agrees and Daryl leaves, ignoring the nagging feeling that he's forgetting something important.

 

~~~~~

 

 

Their luck holds.

 

No one is inside, or outside the building for that matter. The place is now theirs by squatter's rights. Daryl goes to fetch Rick inside, disappointed but not surprised to find his moment of clarity a thing of the past. There is no food to be found beyond some microwave popcorn and a box of Triscuits but he'd made a supply run on the way there so they should be set for a while.

 

There is also no bed to be found but the sofa in the break room turns out to be a pull out, complete with sheets tucked inside. It's almost worse than sleeping on the floor and too small, really, for two grown men but would do well enough for now. Rick doesn't like Judith sleeping in the drawer Daryl had rigged up as a baby bed, and fusses about it until Daryl quiets him by simply holding him close as they lay together on their bed.

 

“Hush, now,” he says, his breath ruffling Rick's hair. “She's going to be fine where she is. We need to get some sleep. So hush up and let me sleep.”

 

Rick does with only a token protest. All three of them sleep through the night.

 

The next few days are all about getting settled in, checking defenses being the top priority and making the place livable as an afterthought. Rick helps sporadically but most of his attention and focus is on the baby, which is just fine with Daryl. It is about this time, just when he thinks things are finally on the way to getting good or least tolerable again that he discovers just how bad things really are.

 

“She reminds me of Carl,” he says one day, cradling Judith as she sucks contentedly on her last bottle of the day. “Don't you think?” he adds when Rick doesn't respond, and looks up to see him watching them with an odd mixture of confusion and panic.

 

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Rick says shortly and begins pacing the length of the room, back and forth.

 

“Look, I know you don't like talking about it and I've let you alone about it, but you can't let it fester forever.”

 

Rick stops his pacing to stand directly in front of Daryl, breathing hard like he'd just run a mile. “I _said_ I don't know what you're talking about,” he repeats forcefully and Daryl feels something twist up hard and tight inside of him. This was so, _so_ not good.

 

“Your son, Carl. Who died. Along with Carol and Glenn and...”

 

Rick throws his hands up and yells, “ _Stop_!” the sound echoing and too loud in the small room. Judith, who'd been mostly asleep, startles back awake at the noise and starts letting the world in on her displeasure at being so rudely woken up. “Just _stop_ ,” he adds more quietly, before sinking to his knees. By the time Daryl has quieted Judith down and gotten her safely tucked away in her bed Rick has scooted back against the wall, his head down on top of his knees.

 

“Rick,” Daryl starts before he realizes the other man is breathing fast, far too fast to be anything like normal, eyes wild and mouth open wide, gasping desperately for air. “Hey. Hey, now. You're okay. Just breathe. Take a deep breath and calm the fuck down, okay? Everything's okay.”

 

He continues on with the pretty lies and reassurances until Rick has stopped the awful gasping and is lying on the floor, curled up on his side and staring at nothing. Daryl sits on the floor next to him for a long time, his hip against Rick's back, before wordlessly helping him up and into bed.

 

He tries again, a few weeks later, and Rick has almost exactly the same reaction. After he's calmed Rick down he shuts himself in the tiny bathroom and tries to figure out what the hell is going on. It isn't until the next day that it dawns on him - _this_ is how Rick is coping. Remembering hurts so much that he just can't stand to remember, so he's forgotten not only the way they died, but every single memory of their time together.

 

If they never existed, losing them couldn't hurt.

  
The only ones he seems to remember are Daryl and the baby. He never comes right out and says it, but every so often he hints that he thinks it has been just the three of them all along. Daryl wants to ask him just where he thinks Judith came from, because he's pretty sure they are both lacking any female type baby making parts. He chickens out every time.

 

A part of him is sure that one day Rick will stop breathing during one of his fits. Or have a heart attack or maybe a stroke like his great aunt Ethel did a couple of years back. Daryl isn't sure he can take one more loss. Not now, maybe not ever.

 

So he shifts away from trying to make Rick better by getting him to talk about stuff to just keeping him calm and comfortable, hoping he'll get better on his own with time and patience. It isn't easy, some days more than others, but nobody ever promised him an easy life.

 

Daryl eventually brings two mattresses home for them to sleep on instead of the miserable fold out couch, setting them up in separate rooms. It was past time Rick had his own space again, even though he seems perfectly content to share. Daryl needs the new bed - that damned bar in his back _had_ to go – even though he'd miss the company at night. Funny how quickly you got used to some things.

 

Rick has other ideas, flatly refusing to sleep in his new bed for even one night.

 

“What?” Daryl growls, tired from the day's outing and wanting nothing more than a good night's sleep.

 

Rick just stands there in the doorway of his newly established bedroom, staring at Daryl as he lay in bed.

 

“What is it?” Daryl repeats, even though he has a pretty good idea what the problem was. Rick crosses his arms and glares at him mulishly. “Fine,” he sighs, and throws back the blanket in invitation. Rick wastes no time crawling inside, folding himself against Daryl in a way he would have found embarrassing, if anyone had been around to see it.

 

But no one was, he realized. There was no one to see or care or know about anything they did inside their little fortress. Daringly, he leans over to kiss the top of Rick's head. He draws back immediately, waiting for the other man's reaction.

 

A soft smile and two hands cupping his face was Rick's only response. Daryl waits, breath caught in his throat as Rick slowly leans in until their lips brush together, feather light in the darkened room.

 

He'd thought about kissing Rick, more and more often the past few weeks. In his mind he imagined it would be different from the kisses he was used to; harder, somehow, or maybe rougher.

 

It wasn't. It was just... nice. Kind of sweet, like the kiss Alicia Mae in third grade had planted on him during recess one day. Now he just had to be smarter than he had back been then, when he'd pushed Alicia away and pretended not to notice when she cried.

 

He doesn't want Rick to cry. Especially not over someone like him.

 

Rick pulls back and looks at him for a long minute and Daryl is sure that Rick, the old sane Rick is there with him for this moment in time. His eyes are sharp and focused and wholly aware.

 

He holds his breath and waits for Rick to say something nice or mean or crazy but he never does. Instead he just kisses him again, longer and harder this time and it feels really, really good.

 

Somehow they go from sweet, almost innocent kissing to hand jobs overnight. Well, it wasn't all that much of a mystery, really. Daryl wakes up one morning to find his usual early morning wood being... taken care of. By Rick. Who doesn't look in the least bit concerned that he has his hand on another guy's junk.

 

“Holy shit,” Daryl says, jerking back on reflex and boy, was that a mistake. Rick doesn't let go as he moves and Daryl buys himself a nice case of dick burn. Rick glares at him for interrupting his fun before melting into uncertainty.

 

“You didn't like it?” he asks in a small voice that makes Daryl's chest hurt.

 

“I, ah, it's not that. I mean, yeah, it was good, _really_ good but you really shouldn't just spring this on a guy...”

 

Rick studies him as he babbles like a moron and then shows how much smarter he is than Daryl, even now that he was a few pecans short of a fruitcake. He plants himself firmly between Daryl's legs and takes his now flaccid dick by the root and begins licking it. With his _tongue_. Which, yeah, was usually the way things got licked but Daryl was still pretty hung up on the whole _tongue_ and _lickin_ g thing. Eventually he remembers he shouldn't be taking advantage of the crazy person and puts one hand on Rick's head to push him off.

 

Rick looks up at him, the tip of his dick resting easily on his tongue and grins at him. Grins at him like this was _fun_ , like it was all a game before closing his mouth around his hard again length and sliding it slowly in an out. And in and out. And Daryl knows he should be doing something right about now but for the life of him he can't remember what.

 

He finishes inside Rick's mouth embarrassingly fast, watching in fascination as Rick turns his head to spit with practiced ease.

 

He thinks maybe this isn't the first time Rick's done this.

 

Daryl reciprocates with a hand job that isn't anything like as well done as what Rick had done but is at least enthusiastic. It doesn't even feel that weird, mostly because he's focused on wanting Rick to feel as good as he does.

 

He'll do better next time.

 

If there _was_ a next time.

 

“Are you sure about this?” Daryl whispers into the dark. “I mean really, _really_ sure? Because I'm not gonna make you do something you don't want to do. Or because you feel like you owe me something.”

 

He feels rather than sees Rick's smile, where his face is pressed against Daryl's chest.

 

“I'm not sure about anything,” he answers, and Daryl feels a little thrill go through him at how rough his voice is now, “anything except you and Judith. And I know what I want with you. And I know you want it too.”

 

Rick is right, of course. Daryl does want this, has probably wanted it for a long time if he is really honest with himself, maybe even before it was just the three of them. That doesn't matter though, not really. All that matters is here and now and getting through each day as it comes.

 

“Everything's going to be okay,” Rick says softly and Daryl isn't sure who he's trying to convince but thinks maybe he's right anyway.

\


End file.
